


Reassurance

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx had always handled nightmares well, it doesn't matter if they weren't his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt over at my [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/): “Things you said while I cried in your arms.”

He couldn’t picture Gladio doing this, or Ignis. He couldn’t picture them crawling into a bed with Noctis and holding him after a nightmare. Prompto, maybe. But he didn’t think they could handle Noct like this; shuddering, sobbing, shocked, and wounded. He didn’t think they could handle the way Noct would cling and shake and refuse to let go, refuse to stop. 

Nyx didn’t know if they had ever seen Noct like this, really. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here,” he muttered against the prince’s wild, bed-mussed hair, arms tight around narrow shoulders as he rocked slowly. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Ignis was too practical; the lights would come on and the nightmare rationalised. Prompto was too scared; he would smile and distract and draw Noct out of his terror. Gladio was too rough, too solid; Nyx knew that out of all of them, Gladio would be the one to keep contact with Noct, to try to soothe him as much as he could. But not like this, not as much as Noct would need. 

“You’re okay,” Nyx knew what nightmares were like. He had seen them living. He had fought them ever since he took his friends and his knife and he ran from his home. 

He knew where Noct got his scars, his quiet. Where Noct learnt what daemons could do and that all the trained guards in the world might not be enough to save him. He knew what it was like to be a child and see death coming with a honed blade. 

“You’re okay, I’m here.”

He doesn’t know how long he held Noct in the dark, on their bed (it had stopped being his bed alone some time ago), stroking a hand down Noct’s back feeling the edge of the scar beneath his hand. 

Some nights, when Noct woke like this— with a start and wild eyes, with tears and terror already welling to the surface— Nyx wanted to hunt down the creature that had hurt him and make it pay. He wanted to find a way back to the start of all this and keep it from happened. Keep that look out of Noct’s eye. 

Some nights, Noct screamed. Some he writhed in pain from a remembered wound. Some he searched the shadows for a trace of creatures that couldn’t break through a strong barrier. Some he reached for a little green figure that seemed to never really leave his side. 

All of these nights, every single one, Nyx would be there before Noct could panic. He would hold him, pull him close, mutter into the dark. Noct didn’t need the bright glare of light during these times. He didn’t need to see that he was scared of nothing, that there was nothing that could hurt him right now. Noct knew that there were things out there that could hurt him. Artificial light wouldn’t stop them. 

So Nyx held him, talked him through the panic and tense muscles and wild eyes. Soothed him through the ragged, teary breaths and sobs. “I’m here, Noct. I got you. You’re okay.”

At times, he would mutter the words in his native language— the tone of Galahdian helping Noct focus again. The strangeness of the foreign language jarring him out of his thoughts. 

“You’re okay. I’m here.”

He wouldn’t let go until he felt Noct move. Until he felt the gentle tug on his braids and the smile pressed against his shoulder. And even then, he would only relinquish enough to get a good look at Noct in the dark, to smooth the tears from his cheeks and smile. 

“You’re here,” Noct would mutter back, his voice harsh, gruff, broken. 

And Nyx would nod, and smile, and settle them back down to wait for dawn. “Always, your highness.”


End file.
